


Secret Keeper

by theSapphireSky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, so much fluff y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, their goddaughter stared back at him. Her thumb in her mouth, her eyes flitted between him and Molly, wide and innocent but with a spark of Mary behind the guileless blue.Uh-oh.Or: in which Sherlock can't hide anything from his goddaughter.





	Secret Keeper

Someone was watching him.

He slowly opened one eye, pulling Molly closer to him protectively. He felt the weight of the intruder’s gaze and carefully lifted his head to look past his slumbering Molly (okay, his slumbering,  _secret_ girlfriend). 

Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, their goddaughter stared back at him. Her thumb in her mouth, her eyes flitted between him and Molly, wide and innocent but with a spark of Mary behind the guileless blue.

_Uh-oh._

“Rosie,” Sherlock whispered as quietly as possible, trying to convey to the four-year-old just how serious the situation was that she had stumbled upon. He raised his finger to his lips and prayed fervently, irrationally, that she understood.

_Please don’t tell your father, don’t say anything about this, or he’ll be absolutely insufferable with his smug smirks, “I told you so’s”, and jabs at my so-called virginity. And_ then _he’ll tell Mycroft who will tell Mummy and then Molly and I won’t have a moment’s peace and you can kiss having any cousins goodbye!_

Rosie popped her thumb out of her mouth and mimicked her godfather, holding her finger to her lips. “Shhhhh,” she said in a stage whisper.

Sherlock nodded and beamed. “Good girl.” 

His goddaughter smiled and toddled back out the way she’d come, leaving Sherlock to let out a huge sigh of relief and relax back into the bed.

**“Daddy! Uncle Sherlock’s got a _girl_  in his room!”  
**

_Damn it._

 

 

 

_oOo_

 

 

 

How hard could it be?

John had done it.

Lestrade had managed it. Twice.

Even Anderson, the blithering idiot, had  _somehow_  done it.

So why was he, Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest detective finding it so bloody difficult?!

“I can’t imagine my life…?” No, he shook his head in disgust. “Would you do me the honour-oh, that’s worse.”

He ruffled his curls in frustration. Agony, that’s what this was. Months of agonizing. Since they’d gone public with their relationship (since Rosie, and subsequently her big blabbermouth of a father, outed them), he had been trying to put the damn ring on her finger. But his plans kept getting foiled along the way. Not to mention, he had absolutely  _no idea_  what to say.

Pacing in his bedroom, he filtered through hundreds of possibilities, every potential phrasing he had come across in his research. None of them were right.

Maybe he was just overthinking it.

Kneeling done on one knee, he closed his eyes, imagining she was before him, in this room, their room, dressed in his favourite yellow dress, beaming down at him with tears in her eyes when she realised what was happening.

Yes, this would be the perfect moment.

He pulled out the box he’d been carrying all these months. He flicked it open, imagining Molly’s gasp of surprise.

“Molly Hooper, I love you. Will you marry me?”

_Simple. Perfect. Unfoilable._ He smiled.

Until he heard a tiny  _eek._

Sherlock froze.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Rosie stared back at him from the doorway, still in her jacket and hat, her eyes round with delight as she looked between him and the glittering ring in his hand.

He grimaced at himself for missing the sounds of them returning from their trip to the shops.

_Not again._

“Rosie,” he warned, slowly closing the ring box, as if sudden movements would spook her, and holding out his other hand in the universal signal of  _don’t you even think about it._

Her surprise turned into a Mary-like knowing grin and before he could say another word she bolted for the door.

He scrambled to his feet and raced after his goddaughter.

**“Aunt Molly, Aunt Molly! Uncle Sherlock got you a _ring_!”**

 

 

 

oOo

 

 

 

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Their small complement of friends and family sat just outside in the chapel, she was dressed in a stunning white confection of tulle and lace, while Sherlock readied himself in the room next door on what should be the happiest day of her life.

And yet, here she was, pacing in the tiny ensuite bathroom, biting her thumbnail, as the timer on her phone slowly, achingly slowly, counted down.

They’d been so careful. Not that they both didn’t want this, but it was unspoken that they would wait for a while until the hullabaloo settled down.

Her phone chirped and she scrambled to turn it off, nearly knocking it into the toilet.

Her heart raced as she faced the upside down stick laying on the sink. With shaking hands, she picked it up and turned it over.

She blinked, sure she was seeing things.

But there it was.

A pink plus sign.

She was having a baby.  _They_  were having a baby!

A happy sob caught in her throat and she covered her flat tummy, as if she could feel the faint flutter of life under her fingers.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door and she heard Greg call out that it was time. Quickly wrapping the stick in a towel, she tucked it away and checked her makeup.

A secret smile played on her lips.

Show time.

oOo

“Do you have the rings?”

“Of course I have the rings.”

“Are you sure?”

John rolled his eyes for the nth time that day. “Yes, Sherlock.” He made a show of patting his pocket.

Sherlockdidn’t look remotely repentant, only turned back to watch for his bride. This was ridiculous. Had he had his way, they’d have been married two months ago and enjoying a long anticipated, well deserved sex holiday.

But Mummy, Molly, John, and even Mycroft had put their collective foot down. So they compromised on a small ceremony with just their closest friends and family as soon as they were able to put it together.

Sherlock shifted agitatedly, finally relaxing when Rosie appeared. In her yellow flower girl dress and crown of white daisies, she was absolutely adorable. She seemed a bit stunned by the number of people staring at her, but then Lestrade gave her a gentle nudge and she started down the aisle, dropping clumps of rose petals as she went. Sherlock beamed at her, ignoring John’s sniffling beside him.

“Well done,” he whispered when she reached the end. She was supposed to go sit with Mummy but apparently had taken to the attention and appreciative smiles she’s received and so he could only grin indulgently when she stayed by his side.

The music changed then and his attention was drawn to the far end. Lestrade held out his arm and when Molly appeared to take it, everything else faded away. Finally, she would be his wife. His chest swelled with pride.

He took all of her in, from her ballet flats peeking out from the hem of her dress to the bouquet of daisies all the way to her pink cheeks framed by her loose, curled hair.

He blinked and dropped his gaze back to her stomach, the cautious way cradled her bouquet to herself, the sparkle in her eyes, the glow on her face…

He met her eyes and she gave him a small nod.

The happiness that flooded him was more powerful than any high he’d ever experienced and only John’s strong grip on the back of his suit kept him from going to her and sweeping her up into his arms.

“Hold up, mate,” John said in a stage whisper. The guests tittered, thinking he was just being an overly anxious groom.

Molly’s smile widened knowingly. And not soon enough, she was at his side, Greg handing her over with a kiss on her cheek.

“Take good care of her,” he shook Sherlock’s hand and took his seat.

Then it was just them.

“Are you ready for this?”

She bit her lip in that teasing way of hers and squeezed his hand. “I’ve been ready for years. Now hurry up and marry me, Sherlock Holmes.”

oOo

To be fair, it was his own fault.

As the celebration began, before they had made their entrance into the reception hall, he had pulled her away into an alcove.

“Hello, wife.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi, hubby.”

He wrinkled his nose at the nickname and she laughed.

“How about ‘daddy’?”

His heart leapt and he kissed her. “Now, that, Dr Holmes, is a name I can get used to.”

“You’d better,” she gasped as he nuzzled her neck. “After all, in about five months, you’ll be one.”

He ran through the time frame in his mind, cross checking with her cycle. “Aruba?”

She nodded, fingers toying with his tie. “You were particularly amorous after solving the case. Couldn’t even wait to get back to the hotel if I recall.”

He laughed. “Our child would be conceived in the back of a stolen police car.”

He was about to steal another kiss when he heard a shuffling sound. Lifting his head from the delightful neck of his new wife, he caught a flash of yellow disappear around the corner and into the hall.

“Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Molly looked up at him concerned.

He opened his mouth to reply, but a shout from the hall, clear as a bell over the guests murmurings, silenced him.

**“Daddy! Daddy! Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly are having a _baby_!”**

Dead silence followed the announcement, then a distinctive shriek of delight that could only have been his mother.

Or Anderson.

They stared at each other in shock, then burst into laughter.

“We were never going to be able to keep it a secret anyway, were we?” She said ruefully, leaning her forehead against his chest, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Sherlock titled his head back and smiled. “In this family? Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> A special thank you to MizJoely for the fantastic addition of Rosie's last line!


End file.
